#thanatophile

The mosquitoes love biting my Knees, To argue and brawl, like brothers,

I suppose;

We all need to feed,

And some more than others

I suppose, I suppose, I suppose.

For these bumps are far more A nuisance, Then my left eye, unavailable.

They continue to feed. I continue to stumble. Walking blindly, And forever bound to the Process of withering,

I’m annoyed

By knowing they’ll end before I do.

- H.H.

--inspired by @hathaway-hayes, "A poem for the thanatophile"

In an atramentous night, acid rain leaking through the parched ceiling; tears of gold glimmer on a half-made corpse.

Ink drips onto exsanguinated hands, extinguished of hope and flame, glories once written now melt into oblivion with ice sculptures.

I seek godliness, but without the need to live. Somebody crawls on the tiled floor, to kiss my toes in desperation.

Eevee:You’re one of my favourite people